His Creature
by Suz Singer
Summary: A dark, AU look at the Harley Quinn you don't know. Harleen Frances Quinzel was kidnapped from Arkham Asylum by the Joker nearly a year ago. The Joker had all this time to bend Harleen to his will, to make her his creature. By chance, Batman comes across Harley Quinn. Alone, injured, and quite mad, Harley is captured by the vigilante. The Batman offers her a chance. THREESHOT.
1. Part I

**AU HARLEY QUINN FIC. THREESHOT. EXCERPT IN MY DESCRIPTION WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME.**

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**Part I**

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She was laughing. It was a cackling, insane, unsettling noise. It seemed as if she didn't know what else to do, so she laughed. And laughed. That was how Batman had found her- cackling madly over the body of a man she'd just murdered.

She was doing it now, her body shaking from the force of her hysterics, even as she was tied down to a chair. Batman stood in front of her, his arms crossed against his molded chest. Her blonde hair had fallen from her jester's cap, and the skin-tight red & black jester outfit she wore was ripped and bloody. "Who are you?" Batman growled in a gritty tone.

"Who am I? Who am I?" She echoed with a sick giggle. Her face was painted, just like Joker's, the sides of her mouth were cut and scarred, just like his.

Batman had been able to take her fingerprints and identify her. Her name was Harleen Frances Quinzel, a twenty-three year old doctor who had gone missing nearly a year ago. The same day the Joker had escaped from Arkham.

"I know your name. It's Harleen Quinzel," He remarked. At her name, she seemed to become visibly agitated.

"NO, NO, _NO_! I am Harley Quinn! _HARLEY_ _QUINN_!" She shouted at him, throwing herself against her restraints for the first time since he'd captured her.

"So you're Harley Quinn," he said, which made the woman ease back into the chair, sighing with relief.

Before her large black eyes snapped open. "_He_ calls me that. _He_ made me Harley Quin," She commented, shaking her head, causing the jester's hat to fall, and reveal her disheveled blonde pigtails.

"He?" Batman questioned, though he was fairly sure he knew exactly what she spoke of. Her body shifted restlessly, never still for a moment. The way Harley's body sharply shifted constantly set off alarms in Batman's mind.

The black depths of her eyes were bottomless, insanity and innocence mingling inside. She didn't answer the question, seeing no need. "I was a doctor once…" Harley Quinn said, wistfully, her eyes distant. "Before _he_ took me, that is," She added.

There was truth to her words, Batman knew. Dr. Harleen Quinzel had been the Joker's attending physician. One of the orderlies had witnessed the Joker breaking into her office, and then carrying her out, kicking and screaming. No one stopped him.

"And then what happened?" Batman questioned her. Harley didn't answer, still lost in her own mind. "Harley?"

It took a few moments, and most of Batman's patience, before Harley answered. "_He_ made me _this_." She said in such a despondent tone. "_He _made me a _monster._ Just like _him_," Harley whispered brokenly, making Batman's heart ache for her.

He knelt in front of her, touching her knee gently, only for the poor creature to rear back wildly, her dark eyes full of fear. Batman removed his hand, but did not move away. "You are not a monster, Harley," he told her, "I can get you help. You can be a doctor again. You can be Harleen again," Batman promised her.

Harley's expression was full of disbelief, and her maddened eyes searched his own dark eyes behind the mask. "_He_ will never let me go," she said sadly, almost childlike.

Batman kept his tone gentle- the mad girl seemed to respond better to it. "If you help me take the Joker down, you will be free from him. Forever." He informed her, drawing a switchblade from his belt. Again, the girl cowered back, wary of him and the weapon. Batman dragged the blade through the restraints at her ankles and wrists.

Harley gazed at him incredulously. He was setting her free? "I will do it...if I will be free." She murmured in a remarkably lucid moment. Her dark eyes were suddenly clear and determined, as she shook her wrists free of the bonds, getting to her feet as Batman moved away.

Batman held his hand out to her, and Harley hesitantly took it, shaking it as agreement on the terms they'd set. "The first thing we need to do is get you clean," he growled in his gritty tone, nodding to the track marks on the inside of her arms.

It was only an hour or two after he'd captured Harley Quinn that he'd noticed the track marks, and then all her behaviors seemed to make sense. The Joker had likely kept the young woman strung out to keep her under his control, doing his bidding. As he'd spoken, he could see her momentary lucidity fade. She was withdrawing from the drug, judging by her sweat-soaked hair, and the manic expression on Harley's face. "Do it," she hissed, collapsing back on the chair. "Do it before the drugs change me again," she said pleadingly. "Do it so I can be free,"

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	2. Part II

**AU HARLEY QUINN FIC. THREESHOT. EXCERPT IN MY DESCRIPTION WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME.**

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**Part II**

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Harley tucked a strand of silky blonde hair behind her hair. It had been two months since she had accepted Batman's offer, and two months since she'd been put under the care of Bruce Wayne and his butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Oh _yes_, the mysterious Batman was the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. Joker would have _killed_ to have the knowledge Harley now did, just rattling around inside her skull.

As the errant thought of Joker crossed her mind, Harley's delicate lips stretched into a tenuous frown, tugging at the scars on either side of her face. She hadn't so much as seen his face since she was captured by Batman, but he still pervaded her thoughts and actions every single day. The moment Harley considered something, anything really, even something so trivial as her outfit for the day, her second thought was to wonder what the Joker would think.

That man..._no_, he was not a man. He was a monster. That monster put fear in Harley's life, fear that _anything_ she did would result in pain for her. She had quickly learned that the best way to avoid pain at his hand was to avoid catching his attention. But unfortunately, his attention had always been undividedly on her.

Harley was clean. The heroin that the Joker had injected into her veins at least once every day was no longer swimming in her veins, the drug that made her feel invincible, limitless, and quite simply insane. She was clean, but it made little difference to her anymore. At least when she was high, Joker didn't trouble her so much. What he did to her didn't bother her, and the pain did not reach her through the haze of drugs. Harley hated the very idea of drugs, hated the fact that she'd been addicted to heroin for over a year, but she did not know how to live with this pain.

She relived her torment at his hands every day. She felt hands on her when there were none, hot breath on her skin when there was none. She shied away from the merest, gentlest touch of the two men she knew would never hurt her. Bruce and Alfred tried, they sorely did, but Harley could not stand being touched. She had known only violence in a man's touch for a year, and that fear, that pain, would never fade from her mind.

"You look like you're brooding." A deep voice remarked behind her. Harley did not bother to tear her gaze from the window. It was a rainy, gray morning outside in Gotham. Bruce Wayne entered her periphery vision as he moved to stand beside her. His handsome, solemn, and somewhat inquisitive face regarded her seriously, his lips quirking up at the left side. "Oh yes, definitely brooding." He confirmed, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Harley shifted to look at him. "I was taught by the best," she replied sardonically, raising a single eyebrow.

Bruce scratched his head, shrugging sheepishly. "What's on your mind, Harley?" He asked her. While Harley was always quiet, she was more reserved than usual. In the beginning, Bruce had been optimistic about Harley's rehabilitation. She had been nothing less of devoted to the regiment Bruce had created to retrain her body and mind back to health.

But now Bruce doubted that Harley would ever escape what the Joker had done to her, in her own mind. Because she didn't want to. Harley wallowed in her pain. That way, she never doubted her resolve. The resolve to kill the man who'd caused her that pain.

"It's been too quiet. It isn't like him to sit idly by. He's up to something." Harley murmured. The arms she had wrapped around herself tensed at the thought.

Bruce sighed. "I know." He replied quietly.

Harley turned to face him, her dark eyes earnest and almost frightened. "You haven't seen anything? Nothing? It's been _months_," she questioned him.

Bruce shook his head. "He's disappeared. I've told you. In the beginning, they were searching for you. But they're not anymore, Harley." He informed her.

Harley turned back to the window, raising her fingers to her lips to chew nervously on a fingernail. "No. He's here. He's waiting. Trying to lure us into a false sense of security." She queried, her eyes fixed on a point outside the window. "We can't let that happen. Have to do something," Harley rambled, pacing a few steps towards the window, gazing into it with a fixation as if it might reveal the answer she so desperately sought.

Bruce closed the distance between them, putting a hand on her shoulder, only for her to flinch away violently. "Do _not_ touch me!" Harley spat, a flash of fury and fear passing through her features. Bruce held up his hands in surrender, to show her he wouldn't reach for her again. Harley visibly slumped, backing away to sit heavily onto the bed in her room.

"I wouldn't hurt you." Bruce reminded her, carefully moving a few steps towards her, and crouching in front of her- leaving a safe distance between them.

Harley noticed his effort to keep her comfortable, smiling weakly. "I...know. I just can't." She said quietly, hiding her face in her hands, massaging her forehead. "I just...need to get _him_ so I can forget. So I can be free." Harley murmured. Bruce shook his head lightly, exhaling slowly, happy she wouldn't look at him at the moment. Harley didn't believe she would ever be free if the Joker still lived. But she was free right now, Bruce argued in his mind. If she would just let herself, she would be.

They were both quiet for a few moments, while Bruce carefully considered what to say. "Someone wise once told me that you either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain." He told her solemnly.

Harley raised her head to look at him incredulously. "What are you trying to say, Bruce?" She questioned suspiciously.

"You've killed." Bruce supplied as her face paled. "That was under his influence. Strung out on heroin. You aren't responsible for that." He continued hastily. "But to kill a man in cold blood. For revenge. That's a different matter." Bruce informed her.

Harley's eyes narrowed at him, her lips thinning. "And you don't think he deserves it?" She asked in a deadly tone.

Bruce gave a heavy sigh. "I think you should let it go." He answered her. Harley reeled back as if she had been slapped. "I think you should let me handle the Joker on my own," he went on. A tremor went through her at the mere mention of his name.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Harley began in a venomous tone. "But I believe that the whole basis of our partnership is me helping you to take him down." She pointed out.

"You _have_ helped me. You've given me invaluable information." Bruce retorted.

Harley leapt from her seat. _"No!"_ She shrieked. "I haven't done enough! I _need_ to be there! I _need_ to see it!" Harley demanded.

Bruce rose to his full height before the raging woman. "I don't want you in harm's way, Harley." He admitted, making her pause for but a moment.

"I'm already in harm's way, Bruce! The moment Joker finds out where I am, what I'm doing, I'm dead!" Harley cried out, waving her arms wildly.

Bruce regarded her sadly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Harley. I can't let you do this. I won't." He informed her softly.

All of Harley's rage came to a boiling point, and she screamed shrilly, stomping her feet, before running from the room. Bruce let her go, thinking she would just find a quiet corner in the flat where she could cool down and accept what he'd told her.

It was the last time he would see Harley alive.

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	3. Part III

**AU HARLEY QUINN FIC. THREESHOT. **

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**Part III**

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It wasn't until after Batman had put an end to the Joker once and for all; did he find Harley Quinn again. She had vanished that day from his flat six months ago, never to be seen again. Until he searched the Joker's lair after killing the villain and emptying it of his cronies.

In the upper floor and tucked into a small bedroom, Batman found Harley Quinn. She lay on a thin pallet, her arm outstretched baring fresh track marks, and several discarded needles a few inches away. Her formerly petite, curvy form was wasted and boney. Harley was grey and still, her dark eyes still open and glassy.

Batman fell to his knees just inside the door, at the sight of her lifeless eyes gazing back at him. Her boney, grey body was utterly bare, all except for the dingy towel thrown across her hips. Harley's body was littered with bruises and cuts; some half-healed, some fresh and still oozing blood. Her bare chest bore one harsh, bruised bite mark atop her left breast.

It was obvious by her unnatural stillness and by the grey pallor of her skin, but Batman could not stop himself from moving forward to press his fingers against the pulse-point in her delicate neck. Predictably, the pulse wasn't present. Batman ripped off his cape and spread it over her, covering her up.

The small smile on her lips made his eyes burn. She looked almost serene- if not for the bruises and the unfortunate truth of her condition. Police sirens echoed through the room, warning Batman that he needed to escape.

"You really are free now." He murmured, not bothering to mask his voice. He bent and pressed his lips to her forehead, before rising to his feet. Batman escaped the building just as the police flooded in.

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